


the only way is up again

by monopolizers



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Unrequited Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:39:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5695105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monopolizers/pseuds/monopolizers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for the prompt: "I've just always wanted a Niam AU of Liam pov where he has a crush on Zayn who is friends with a blonde lad named Niall (maybe they all work together?) And Niall subtly shows interest in Liam but he is oblivious to Niall's mild attempts to flirt because he's so focused on his crush on Zayn. But eventually his eyes are opened. Love the idea of uptight!Liam and carefree!niall trying to help him "cut loose""</p>
            </blockquote>





	the only way is up again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [words_on_pages](https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_on_pages/gifts).



> I really hope you like this, words_on_pages! I stayed pretty close to the prompt and I had a good time writing it :) 
> 
> title from the [Clean Bandit song "Up Again"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJqKEhWXaMA)

Even in the crush of the open mic crowd, from behind the bar he was always able to spot the silver shock of Zayn's hair, his leather jacket, the quicksilver hunched over way he moved. Their eyes met and Liam smiled, gesturing to the sheet taped to one side of the stage and giving Zayn a thumbs up. The smile he received in return made his mouth go dry. "Thanks, mate," Zayn mouthed, and turned around.

The crowd tonight wasn't bad; usually there were about twenty to thirty people, a third of whom wanted to perform, but now that exams had started all the college kids had fucked off to study or do whatever it was they did in university. Liam hadn't been for a long while. It made him feel old to think about it. He didn't exactly make money off the open mic nights, but he enjoyed them, and the bar made him enough money as it was. He liked having a place that people came to. It made him feel like he was a necessity.

And besides, if he didn't have the open mics he wouldn't see Zayn nearly as much. Zayn wasn't the reason he'd started them, but when he'd walked in two months in and signed up and sang the most incredible, ridiculously riffed version of Taylor Swift's _You Belong With Me_ that Liam had ever heard, he'd kept them going just to see Zayn every week.

That was two years ago. Liam had watched Zayn date girls, date boys, date multiple people at once, break up with people, be broken up with, and that entire time nothing had changed for him. The torch that had started burning when Zayn sang had flickered, maybe wavered once or twice, but it kept burning. Liam had given up on it ever extinguishing. He didn't know how he could have extinguished it, though it wasn't as if he hadn't tried; but he'd stopped dating after the first year, when he couldn't stop comparing everyone to Zayn. Now he was stuck in a strange limbo.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around--ah, it was Harry. Liam had hired Harry when the bar was first up. He'd thought it was a mistake after the first month, when Harry cost him a small fortune in spilled drinks and broken glasses, but by the second, they were making more money than they had in ages. It wasn't that Harry was a particularly good bartender, because his drinks were as mediocre as anyone's. It was that he was friendly, kind and generous; he talked to people with the slow charisma of an aging rockstar. In short, he was the perfect bartending personality. Liam was sure that he'd gained more than a few regulars just on the strength of Harry's charm. And they were mates now, too, because Harry could make friends with a stone.

"Are we going to start?" Harry said. "It's nearly time. You should get up there."

"Yeah, of course. Are all the spots full?"

Harry nodded. "I didn't expect them to be, since it's finals time, but I think we're getting more popular." Actually, scanning the crowd, Liam had to disagree. There were a lot of people he didn't recognise there, but some of them looked very young.

"Are those--Zayn's uni students?" he asked incredulously, gesturing at the five or six kids surrounding Zayn and Gigi (Zayn's newest girlfriend who he refused to call a girlfriend). There was a blond bloke standing next to them with a guitar slung on his back, laughing uproariously and slapping his thigh every time someone tried to ask Zayn a question and his mouth twisted in annoyance.

Harry craned his head over. "Ha! They are," he confirmed.

Liam could feel a smile starting on his face. "This'll be good," he said. "All right. Let me get up there."

 

*

 

Despite the sudden crush of students, the list of performers remained much the same. Zayn, of course; Harry liked to get up there once in a while; a sharp-eyed bloke named Louis who ran a daycare center as his day job; plus a few others Liam didn't necessarily recognise. Zayn and Louis were the regulars, the ones who'd come faithfully almost every week for years now. Liam liked to joke that he ought to start paying them. They weren't even just open mic night performers now; they were his friends. Together with Harry, the four of them formed the extent of Liam's social life, which was probably a little sad.

"All right," he said, standing in front of the mic. "All right, as always--know when your spot is, the list is up here next to the stage. Be polite and don't talk during other people's performances, and if you need to talk, you can always duck outside. Please stick to two songs at most. I really enjoy having you all here, I see a few new faces, and that's going to be great, I'm sure. All right, any questions?"

"Are _you_ going to perform, Liam?" Harry asked from the back of the crowd. He had a sly smile on his face. Liam struggled to keep from flipping him off.

"No, Harry, I will not, but thank you for your concern. All right then, our first performer of the night, please come up and introduce yourself, and you can start!"

He hurried to the back of the room, where Harry artfully dodged one of his nipple twists and then a punch on the arm. "Why'd you do that?" Liam hissed. He didn't perform. He didn't even sing anymore, not after a misspent youth driving to and from singing gigs that were worth nothing and a failed attempt at the X-Factor. once he'd made it to uni--the fact that he'd made it in at all was still a surprise to him ten years later--he'd given up on that dream and given up on it completely. He threw himself into his business degree and it had worked out pretty well for him, since the bar was still afloat and thriving.

"You sound pretty good in your office when you think no one's around," Harry said slyly. He moved out of the way of Liam's pinch just in time. Someone turned around to shush them. Someone else, the blond lad who'd been with Gigi and Zayn, turned around as well, grinning widely. He winked at Liam and put a finger to his lips. Liam flushed, for no reason he could understand, but he kept his mouth shut after that--after all, it'd have been rude to break the rules of his own open mic.

 

*

 

Zayn was fourth on the list, and of course he was incredible as always. Liam knew he thought that because he was lovestruck, but it wasn't just him; every time Zayn sang everyone in the room turned towards him. It was impossible not to fall a little in love with Zayn when he sang; he held the mic like a lover, sang with emotion so deep you wanted to cry. Louis complained that it was sometimes over the top but Liam thought it was perfect. This time he was performing a song by The Weeknd, something he dedicated "to my lady in the crowd." Instead of blushing or laughing the way a lot of Zayn's girlfriends did, Gigi rolled her eyes and flipped him off. It made a sharp grin spread across Zayn's face as he began. Liam's heart twinged. He'd seen Zayn through a lot, and that smile was something special. He didn't smile like that at everyone. He tried to ignore it.

After him was, surprisingly, the blond bloke with a guitar. "I'm Niall," he said, and Zayn hooted from where he was sitting. "Thanks, mate," Niall continued, grinning and bowing in his seat. He was comfortable, clearly having performed before, and when he started singing--an acoustic version of "Use Somebody"--he had a nice, pleasant voice. It wasn't exceptional but it was interesting; he knew how to use it and how to be comfortable with it. Liam was interested despite himself. Harry was nodding along.

After that the rest of the performers were unexceptional, though by no means bad. The crowd that came here didn't want to be discovered or feted for their talent; almost all of them had day jobs they enjoyed and simply wanted to keep in practice. Zayn was, in fact, one of those; he lectured at a university most of the time. In fact he'd never thought about a career in music, which Liam found hard to believe. He wondered if Niall was one of those; he didn't seem like much of a performer, though he played the guitar well. When someone tapped him on the shoulder, he found the opportunity to have that question answered.

"Liam!" Zayn said. Gigi was behind him, blond head bobbing up over his dark one. "Have you met Niall?" He dragged Niall out next to him with one arm. "We went to uni together. He's moved here now!"

"It's really nice to meet you, mate," Liam said, smiling. "Any friend of Zayn's is a friend of mine." They shook hands, perhaps a little formally for the setting.

"Same here!" Niall said. "This is a really nice set up. Do you just run the open mics?"

"I actually own the place."

Niall's eyes widened. "No kidding! That's incredible, wow. You just decided to set them up one day, then?"

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't used to people asking so many questions of him like this; usually he managed to deflect the conversation onto someone else. "Yeah, though they didn't really take off until Zayn and the rest started coming in. They're the talent."

"I'm sure they're not," Niall said, smiling. He looked Liam up and down in a way Liam didn't know how to read. He smiled tightly at Niall and turned to Louis, who was trying to get his attention.

 

*

 

If he'd thought that conversation with Niall was weird, the ones that followed over the next few weeks, when the two of them invariably ended up in the same places due to having the same friends, were even weirder. Niall was a friendly guy but Liam didn't know how to respond to it. They didn't click right, for whatever reason; there was a disconnect in what he got out of their conversations and what Niall seemed to get out of them. In some strange way he felt guilt; there was something he wasn't getting, something that made him unable to understand what was going on.

In fairness, there had been something missing for a while. Not just from his conversations with Niall, but from his life, which felt stalled and sluggish despite how well everything was going. The bar was making a profit and he had a good group of friends; he just didn't know what else there could be.

It came to a head one night when he and Niall ended up leaving together after dinner at Zayn's place. The night was just cool enough, and the air felt velvety. Liam spread his arms out to catch the breeze between his fingertips and saw Niall grinning at him. He tried not to feel defensive and failed. He put his arms down.

"Oh no, keep going," Niall said airily, waving his hands at Liam. "I'll join you, mate." He put his arms out in an imitation of what Liam had been doing a few seconds ago, added a little twirl to it, and then tripped over his own feet and landed on the sidewalk with a thump. Liam stared at him in bemusement.

"Are you all right?" he asked after a second.

Niall winced as he got to his feet. Liam realised that he should have given him a hand, though it was too late now. "I'm fine. Just got a bum knee so I have to be careful with it sometimes."

"Oh! I didn't know that." How could he have, really--they'd only known each other for a few weeks. It was strange how quickly Niall had slotted into all of their lives. He and Louis were the best of mates and had ridiculous drinking competitions all the time. He and Harry had a strange relationship that involved a lot of inappropriate touching and one-upmanship. And he and Zayn, of course, were the best of mates. It was like they'd never stopped being friends. It was only with Liam that things seemed to falter, and it was only Liam who noticed it.

"Yep, bad bones run in the family. Bobby--that's my da--is a butcher at Tesco's and he's got just awful hips. It's why I went into what I do in the first place."

Liam remembered this. "Physical therapy?"

"Yes!" Niall confirmed, pointing at him and grinning. He smiled a lot. His cheeks were red in the night air, and it looked good on him. "It's good work. I like doing the music on the side, too, just to remember it. What about you? Anything other than owning the bar?"

"No, not really," Liam said. "I've got some--" he broke off to laugh at himself a little bit--"some investments in the stock market. Sorry, I never thought I'd say that. I wasn't very good in school so when I did well at business in uni it was a real surprise to everyone."

"Harry said you used to sing too?"

"It was just a hobby." Liam tried to brush it off, internally cursing Harry for his big mouth. "I haven't in years. Had to focus on more practical things, you know?"

Niall's brow furrowed. "You don't have to just do practical things," he said. "You can do things you enjoy, too."

"I mean, obviously." Liam didn't mean to snap, but it came out of his mouth meaner than he wanted. "Sorry. I get tired of Harry telling me that. And Zayn."

"Ah, Zayno," Niall said for no reason at all. Liam looked at him curiously. He was always careful when anyone talked about Zayn. He knew no one knew about his--thing--his crush, but he had to be careful anyway. He found it difficult to balance that caution with the rush of desire he always had when it came to Zayn, the rush to know more, to learn all he could.

"What about Zayn?" he said, trying to sound unaffected.

Niall looked at him. There was a slow tenderness in his eyes. His mouth was set in a slash. "Ah--nothing," he said dismissively after a moment. They had reached the bus stop. Since they lived on the same bus route, a fact they'd discovered earlier that night, Liam knew he'd have a little more time to tease this out.

"What?" he pressed, smiling.

Niall looked at him for a moment longer. The serious expression on his face didn't fit him well at all. Then he made a face Liam couldn't read. "You're not gonna hit me for saying this, are you?"

"No." It came out as more of a question than Liam intended.

Niall shook his head once. Then he asked, "How long have you been in love with Zayn?"

Liam's heart dropped for a moment all the way down to his feet. He thought he might be sick. "I don't know what you mean," he said, but it sounded weak and unsteady to his ears.

Niall shook his head again. "I know you are. And it's--you hide it really well, but I guess since I haven't known you lot as long, maybe it's just more obvious to me."

Liam took in a steadying breath. "I'm not. I have no idea what you're talking about. Zayn has a girlfriend, and I'm not interested in him."

Niall was watching him. He had very very bright eyes, and the streetlight caught the blue and made them eerie in the nighttime. "Mate. I'm not judging. Everyone's been gone for him one time or another. I just think it's a little different with you."

Liam thought of protesting one more time. Then he sagged in defeat. "Yes," he said. "Two years. Can we not--I don't really want to talk about it."

Niall patted his shoulder. "I think you need to," he said. "Come back to my place?"

Liam shrugged. He didn't have anywhere to be the next morning and Niall was not going to let this go. "I think mine is closer," he said. Niall considered it for moment, and then nodded.

"I might stay over at yours, though."

"That's fine by me," Liam said. He felt winded all of a sudden. Incredibly exhausted. When the bus arrived, he let himself sink into Niall's warmth next to him just slightly.

 

*

 

Back at Liam's place Liam put on the kettle while Niall disappeared into his room after asking for a pair of sweatpants--"not that I don't love these jeans, but a guy's gotta breathe!" He came out wearing the sweatpants and bearing a guitar.

Liam looked at it warily. He didn't have the energy to react but he didn't want to be pushed into anything either. "You couldn't have found that easily," he said.

"It was in your closet," Niall said, shrugging. Liam knew that wasn't true. The kettle boiled, and Niall went into the living room, shouting, "I want sugar in mine!" When Liam entered, carefully balancing two mugs, Niall was seated on the sofa and strumming chords on the guitar.

"You don't have to sing," he said, looking up at Liam. "But--and this is a big thing--this is still in tune, so I know you still care about it." He waggled his eyebrows as if it were a huge discovery he'd made. Liam was so tired.

"Yeah, I guess," he said. He sat down on the little armchair on the side of the sofa far from Niall.

"Why'd you stop?"

"It just wasn't practical, I told you." His face burned saying it. And then he said, without knowing where it came from, "And I clearly wasn't good enough, so."

Niall paused. "Good enough for what?" he asked. And then when Liam didn't answer, he asked again: "Good enough for what?"

"Just--to do it. In general."

Niall looked confused. "I don't think that's how that works, mate. Lots of people who aren't good still sing just 'cos they enjoy it."

"Yeah, but I wasn't--supposed to--" He pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. "I did it for my entire childhood and when I was a teenager. I went to gigs, the whole lot. But I got booted off X-Factor and then I thought, 'what's the point? It'll never do anything for me.' So I stopped."

"It doesn't have to do anything material for you for it to make you happy," Niall said. He'd returned to strumming softly on the guitar. "This is a good quality guitar and you take care of it still. It's got to mean something to you."

"I keep telling myself I'm going to sell it. Just haven't got around to it yet."

"You're never going to."

Liam didn't bother answering. They finished the tea in silence. Liam got up. "I'll bring you a pillow and a blanket." Niall nodded. He handed Liam the guitar and stretched out on the sofa. In the soft glow of Liam's living room lamp he looked very warm and cosy, and his smile was unexpectedly disarming. Liam got him a pillow and blanket and went to his own bed and fell straight asleep.

 

*

 

In the morning it was like all the awkwardness of the past weeks was gone. Maybe Liam had imagined it in the first place. When Niall got up, hair tufted in strange places from the sofa, Liam took a picture of him and sent it off to Zayn, who sent it back to Niall with an unflattering message. Niall scowled at Liam from his now upright position. Apparently he wasn't a morning person.

"Give me a moment," he said, yawning, "let me take a shower, and I'll make a good fry-up for you. I don't have anything to do today, anyway." Liam shrugged.

"All right."

The breakfast was good, and then they went out and got coffee from Niall's favourite coffeeshop--how he managed to have one after just a few weeks of living in the city, Liam didn't know. But it was good coffee.

The rest of the day passed much like that. They walked around, got food, and it was only after lunch that Liam checked his watch and realised with a pang that he had to get back to the bar and work on some accounts for their liquor suppliers.

"I've got to go," he said regretfully. Niall made a face at him.

"So soon?" His hair was flat on his forehead, a change from his usual quiff, and Liam liked it for some reason. He was wearing a white t-shirt Liam had lent him that was slightly too long, and it made his eyes pop.

"Yeah, I've got work to do at the bar."

Niall sighed. "All right, then. Bring it in." He held his arms out, and Liam stepped into them for a hug. Niall was a good hugger. He smelled sharp and clean, like Liam's bodywash, even though they'd been walking around all day. He was compact but sturdy, a line of warmth along Liam's front.

"Thanks for--everything," Liam said.

Niall's eyebrows went up comically. "We're seeing each other again! We can still talk! You're not dying, are you?"

"No," Liam said, laughing. "God, no. You're right. All right, then. I'll text you." He walked off down the street, whistling. He couldn't remember a time he'd felt so cheerful.

 

*

 

The feeling persisted over the next few weeks, as he and Niall met up more. Once they went to a museum, on Liam's suggestion. It was a modern art museum, and after a few minutes of looking around, Niall said, "Listen, mate, not to knock your taste, but I have no idea what any of this is supposed to be."

Liam was staring at an exhibition that was just a single black line on a canvas. "Neither do I," he said slowly. "But this is...supposed to be good, right? We're adults. We're cultured now."

Niall pulled the most ridiculous face Liam had ever seen. "No?" he replied. "We're adults and that means we're old enough to do what we want and not be cultured if we don't want to be?"

Liam had to admit that did sound better. The next meeting was Niall's pick, and they sat at Liam's place and played FIFA for four hours straight and then watched a football match after, and then Niall ordered pizza after. It was ridiculous and childish and Liam's back hurt from sitting in one place for so long.

"That's what makes it so fun!" Niall said, grinning. He had pizza sauce smeared on his chin, and Liam leaned in without thinking and swiped his napkin across it to get rid of it. Niall gave him a funny look and Liam realised they were very close. He moved back hurriedly.

"What cologne do you use?" he asked to make it less weird, and then realised that didn't help at all.

Niall just shrugged. "Tom Ford. It's good stuff, right?"

After dinner, he brought out Liam's guitar. He had a strange obsession with it; he thought it was a waste that Liam didn't play it. He started picking out the beginning chords to--

"What song is that?" Liam asked. "Is that--that one by Sean Kingston?"

Instead of answering, Niall began singing it. He had such a pleasant voice, and the twang in it suited this song perfectly. Liam laughed. He gathered up their plates (paper, since Niall didn't want to do the dishes) and went to the kitchen to throw them away. When he came back, he stood in the doorway for a moment and watched Niall pick out notes on the guitar, singing to himself softly. There was a quiet intention, a deliberation in his movements that reminded Liam of Zayn. He didn't know what that meant yet. He heard Niall play the beginning to a Shaggy song and laughed to himself.

" _Shorty came in and she caught me red handed_ ," he sang softly, and had to stop to snort with laughter when Niall looked up in shock.

"No, keep singing, mate!" he exclaimed, playing it louder. They finished out the song together, with Liam having to pause every few seconds to laugh at how strange it was. Niall was looking at him with fondness and something else, something Liam couldn't quite put a finger on. "Always knew ya had it in ya," he said at the end, pretending to wipe away a tear. Liam laughed in embarrassment.

"Oh, come off it. It's nothing."

"You should perform at one of the open mics!"

"What? I don't sing in public, Nialler, come on."

Niall scrunched his face up at him. It was a foreign expression, one he'd probably gotten from Louis. "You've got to. I'll get you to do it somehow."

Liam rolled his eyes. "All right, if you say so."

 

*

 

He shouldn't have doubted Niall. The next time they were together, the five of them, Niall sat up after a hearty meal of Zayn's curry (recipe courtesy of his mum) and said, "I have an announcement, lads." No one really stopped what they were doing, which was mostly nothing except sitting around and groaning about how full they were. Niall cleared his throat and Liam made a questioning face at him. Niall shook his head, smiling. "Listen up. There's going to be a new performer at the open mics." Liam started shaking his head even before Niall could continue. "He's new on the scene, though old in his soul. He's got incredible talent. It's going to be our very...own...Payno!"

Harry cheered immediately, with Louis and Zayn falling in behind him. Liam groaned. "No, I'm not."

"You've told them you are, now you've got to," Niall said, smiling.

Liam shook his head. "I don't. I'm not going to, Harry, get off of me." This to Harry, who'd climbed onto Liam's lap, limpet-like, and was trying to tickle him for reasons unknown. "I'm not ticklish! Niall, I didn't even tell them that. You did!"

"I didn't even know you sing, Payno," Louis said. "I mean, I know you used to, but in the present tense? You haven't performed for any of us, you haven't."

"He has for me," Niall said smugly, and scrambled away from where he was sitting as Louis tried to tackle him. Liam couldn't believe he was friends with a group of grown adults who acted like this. Zayn sat in the middle of it, unscathed as always. He made eye contact with Liam and rolled his eyes and Liam tried to stop the nervous flutter in his stomach that appeared any time he interacted with Zayn.

"WAIT a second, you've sang for Niall and not for any of us?" Harry demanded. He slung his legs over Liam's lap. "That's not fair. We've known you longer!"

"Zayn," Liam said, trying to make an appeal, but Zayn shook his head.

"It's true. You've broken the rules of, like, our friendship. What song d'you think would be best for him, babe?" he asked Niall, who was still trying to escape Louis.

"Michael Buble!" he yelled in between trying to slap at Louis' hands. "The champion. The king!" Zayn laughed.

"That's a high compliment, mate; he's got a massive thing for Michael Buble," he murmured to Liam, and Liam's stomach flipped. This time, he couldn't pinpoint why.

 

*

 

In retrospect he should have found it more strange how easy it was to convince him to prepare a song and sign up for the open mic. He was still floating on that feeling of being with Niall, talking to Niall. It was only when Thursday a week later rolled around that he realised how stupid it was to think that he could do this.

He texted Harry to say that he was sick and couldn't do the song. Louis called a minute later. "Are you all right?" Liam said, less out of rudeness and more out of the sheer novelty of Louis calling him. Louis always texted, always.

"You're not sick," Louis said. "You liar. You can't get out of this."

Liam groaned. "That isn't fair. I can't do this. I don't do this for a reason."

"Shut up," Louis suggested, "and take responsbility for yourself."

"What?" But Louis had already hung up.

That night as he set up for the open mic he thought he might throw up from nerves. Even Harry, normally an unobservant swan, commented on how badly his hands were shaking. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll write your name on the list for you." He'd put Liam last, which was kind in thought but unkind in execution; Liam would rather have had it done with on the first go.

It was only when Zayn and Niall arrived, chatting and looking relaxed, that Liam thought he might actually throw up. Or faint. He was going to perform in front of-- _Zayn_. He sat down in a chair Harry shoved under him at the last moment.

"Here, Zayn--can you help him out?" Harry said. He sounded worried and far away.

"Liam," Zayn said. He also sounded far away. "You don't have to do this, mate. It's all right if you can't."

It was only Niall kneeling down in front of him and taking Liam's hands in his own that cut through the haze. "Hey. Look at me." Liam obeyed. "You all right, mate?" Liam shook his head. "You can do this, though. You got through to Simon's house when you were fourteen, mate, not many people can do that. Compared to that, you've got this in the bag." Liam clenched his jaw. He was gripping onto Niall tightly, his palms sweaty and clammy. He took a deep breath.

"Yeah, I've got this," he said aloud. His voice sounded rusty and creaky. "I'm all right." Niall smiled at him, a big, wide, beautiful expression, and clapped him on the back.

"That's a good lad. You'll be great."

 

*

 

He didn't remember much of the actual performance. He got up there and strummed the guitar, looked out into the expectant faces, began to sing. Everything else after that faded into a haze. All he could think about was Niall's hands. He thought he could still feel them, warm and sturdy, on his own. The performance began, ended, and he found himself blinking dazedly into an applauding crowd.

"Thanks, everyone," he said into the mic. "And that's it for tonight's performances. As always, the bar is open, feel free to stick around and chat."

After everyone had dispersed and he'd finished putting all the equipment away, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Niall, whose face was so soft and fond and whose eyes were so bright Liam almost reached a hand out to him. "Well?" he said, grinning hugely. He could feel the corners of his eyes squinching up the way they did when he was happy. "What'd you think?"

"Great," Niall said, voice rough. He cleared his throat. "Really--really, really great. Always knew you had it in you, mate." His eyes were still fixed on Liam, blue gaze eery and pinned.

Liam moved forward, out of the way so someone could step behind him. It put him very close to Niall. He could see every fleck of brown in Niall's eyes, the light brown stubble he hadn't bothered shaving. A strange proximity. "You didn't like it?" he asked.

Niall shook his head as if to shake himself out of it. Then he smiled, an expression so gentle Liam wanted to gather him up in his arms. "It was great," he said, putting a warm hand on Liam's shoulder. "I knew you could do it. You just had to loosen up a little."

"Are you all right?" Liam pressed on.

"Yes," Niall said. His tone said that was all he'd answer. Liam looked at him for a moment, and then put an arm around his waist and led the two of them into the throng, where he quickly lost Niall to a crowd who wanted to congratulate him and demand why he hadn't done that any sooner.

 

*

 

After that they didn't see each other for a little while. Liam was busy; business was getting better, the open mics more popular, and he didn't have time for much else. He figured Niall was busy too, though he would have liked to know for sure. Instead he had a very thin line of communication, one he thought might snap at any moment. If he sent a text, it got one or two words in reply, if he got an answer at all; calls always went to voicemail. Even Snapchat, which Niall had forced him to download in the first place, didn't work.

"Have you heard from Niall lately?" he asked Zayn one Thursday. Zayn paused from where he was going over something on his phone and looked up at Liam, dark eyes intent. It was strange how a few months ago that would have made his heart twinge in its chest. Now there was barely a skip. Did that mean things were getting better? He wondered if he would always feel this for Zayn, want to follow him around the room, ruffle his hair and touch the lines of his back. He barely wanted that anymore but he still _wanted_ it. It was receding, though, that feeling. That was the victory he ought to cherish.

"Yeah," Zayn said. He made a face Liam couldn't read. "He's been a little weird, if that's what you're asking. He just needs some time. He gets up in his head sometimes."

"Oh. Is there anything I could do to help?"

Zayn laughed. "God, you're a good mate," he said, and Liam felt a warm flush of pleasure at that. There--that meant--it wasn't gone, right? Though he felt the same when Harry told him he'd done a good job with the open mics and when Sophia said he was the nicest guy she'd ever worked for, so it couldn't have been that bad. "I don't know if there is. Just give him a little time."

When he got back to his flat, Liam thought about it. He went through the perfunctory motions of heating up whatever he'd cooked that weekend--some soup recipe he'd found online--for dinner, and then an idea so brilliant he couldn't let go of it struck him.

 

*

 

Three days later he gathered up what he'd put in the slow cooker, texted Niall, _Im on the way to urs n im bringing dinner so be presentabel mate !!!! ;P_ and took the bus to Niall's flat. It was a good idea, he thought to himself smugly as he tried to make sure the bag didn't shift and spill the soup he'd made. If he just told Niall he was coming and didn't give him a chance to say yes or no, he could insert himself in for dinner. Niall was always home by six, anyway, he knew; Niall liked a schedule. He was dependable like that, and Liam thought about how good it was as he sat on the bus, warmth bleeding from the Tupperware onto his leg. Hurriedly he checked that the soup hadn't spilled.

It was true, now that he thought about it; Niall _was_ dependable and Liam _did_ like it. He'd never thought about that as a trait he particularly valued in other people, especially since he was friends with a group who weren't always particular about keeping their commitments. Harry simply forgot most of the time; Louis preferred spontaneity to anything planned and Liam's schedule was too up in the air for that; and Zayn simply couldn't be arsed to do anything he didn't want to do, and he never knew what he wanted to do. Liam was a particular sort of person who wanted things a particular sort of way and sometimes it was just easier not to go out than to go out with that lot.

That had changed since Niall had come around. He'd realised how much more social and open he'd become, but he hadn't realised how much he'd relied on Niall's presence to do that. Or how different things had been since he hadn't seen Niall in a while. Niall's absence, a quiet spectre in those weeks past, suddenly became urgent and looming. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Niall had texted back, _Not really up for it tonight, mate, sorry_ , and Liam felt guilty for imposing all of a sudden. But he was already on the bus, a fact he pointed out in his reply text, and besides he'd brought dinner so it wasn't as if he were simply showing up as a bad guest.

When he looked outside the window he realised with a start that he was almost at Niall's place. He pulled the cord for a stop and tried to balance the soup as the bus lurched to a halt a few moments later. Then he hurried off, hunched over with a bag in his arms.

 

*

 

When Niall opened the door to his apartment, Liam's first thought was: _He looks tired_. And then: _I want to touch his hair._ It looked particularly fluffy. Liam couldn't remember if he'd ever seen it without some sort of styling product, but right now it was just falling over Niall's forehead in a fringe. Niall did look tired, but he looked good, too, in a loose white henley and grey sweatpants. Liam put down the soup bag and opened his arms; Niall stared at him for a moment with a blank lack of comprehension.

"Don't I get a hug?"

"Ah." Niall moved into the circle of Liam's arms. His arms went up around Liam's middle. They stayed like that for a moment longer than Liam might have expected, but it was okay; it felt good, having Niall tucked into him like that. He was slightly taller than Niall and Niall's hair tickled his throat. He must have cleared his throat or something by accident to embarrass Niall, though, because when Niall pulled back he was blushing slightly, something too light to be called pink and too ruddy to be called red resting on his cheeks.

They moved into the flat, which Liam had never seen before, and Niall gave him a short tour; here's the living room, the kitchen, the dining area; here's my room, here's the bathroom. It was a one-bedroom, small and cozy, and more than that it was well put-together. Very neat. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

"Yes," Niall said. He smiled. "You like it?"

"It's amazing." It came out very very earnest and sincere, which made him blush. Niall cracked a grin at him.

"What'd you make for dinner, then?"

"Oh, uh--a slow cooker soup. I thought--I mean, I'm not a great cook, but I thought it'd be rude to turn up uninvited--sorry about that again--and then just not have anything, so."

Niall lifted and dropped a shoulder in a shrug. "That's all right, mate." He pulled bowls and spoons out of various drawers and cupboards. He had matching dishware, which Liam should probably have expected.

They sat on the sofa in the living room, balancing the bowls in their hands while something mindless played on the telly. "How is it?" Liam was unaccountably nervous.

Niall smiled at him. In the low light of his living room lamps, he looked very warm. Glowing, almost. His white henley brought out the blue of his eyes. "It's really good. You don't need to worry. I'm easy to impress, me. Not fancy myself, you know that."

"Yeah. I do." They grinned at each other for a moment. Liam had missed this a lot. He paused before asking, "So...is everything all right with you, mate?"

Niall was in the middle of spooning some soup into his mouth; he waited, swallowed, and then made a face. "I just needed some space. Zayn didn't say?"

"Yeah, but I wondered--I mean, since you were seeing Zayn still, obviously, I wondered if it was something I'd done. Like, if the whole--thing is getting to be too much, we don't have to see each other as much, or anything. Just didn't want to, um. Lose a friend like that." When he finished talking, his face was hot. He looked down and pretended to be engrossed in the soup.

"No, it wasn't that." Niall sounded tired. Liam could hear a clink as he set his bowl onto the coffee table. "It was just...ah. It was nothing. I'll be fine, I just needed some time to myself."

"Yeah, of course," Liam said, voice sounding smaller than he would have liked. "You know you can talk to me, right? I mean, we are friends?"

"Yeah, mate! Yes. Liam. Can you look at me, please?" Liam looked up and felt very silly. "Listen," Niall said. There was a resignation in his tone that Liam couldn't quite reconcile with the expression on his face, which was one of concern and even--tenderness. "I just had some stuff going on. Like your Zayn stuff. But I like handling that on my own, so I needed a little time off. I should have replied to your texts, all right? Mates again?" He stuck out one calloused hand, and Liam shook it.

"Wait." Like his Zayn stuff? "You...you're interested in someone?" He didn't know why he felt so off-kilter about that. Niall had never shown interest in anyone in the time they'd known each other. "Since when?"

"It doesn't matter," Niall said. There was a wry smile on his face, like he had some kind of in-joke with himself about it. "It's not--it can't happen."

"I'm sure that's not true, mate, who'd turn you down?" And more importantly, if Niall had been interested in someone and it'd gone so badly he didn't want to speak to Liam for weeks, what other stuff was behind that seamless, easy facade? "So this entire time you were listening to my love problems and you had your own? I feel--awful." He touched a hand to his face. He thought he might be overheating from embarrassment.

"They weren't problems until--a little while ago. I don't know. You know when you're--I just had that moment. Of looking at--at them, and it just kinda hit me that I was way further gone than I'd thought." Liam noticed the pronoun stumble and felt even worse.

"But who'd turn you down?" he breathed. It wasn't even really a question, more something he was asking himself, but Niall huffed out a laugh anyway.

"Someone who's into someone else, mate."

"You're into someone who's into someone else?" This just got more and more confusing. "Do I know them?"

Niall grimaced. "You could say that."

What? "Who?"

"Liam." That same tone of resignation, the same grimace. "Come on, lad. Don't make me say it like this."

They were sitting facing each other now, Liam with his knees tucked under hm and Niall with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms locked around them. Like this he'd created a little armour for himself. Liam felt very far away from him at the same time that he felt a tension snap and pull tight in the room. "What are you talking about?"

Niall looked up and away for a second. Then he shook his head and thinned his lips. Then he looked Liam in the eye, a clear shock of blue, and said, "It's you."

 

*

 

For a moment the room seemed to tilt on its axis, spinning around Liam in a way he couldn't control. Then it righted itself and then Liam was able to think through what that meant. It was--

Jesus.

"I didn't know," he breathed out. He felt very small, all of a sudden, in the face of Niall's quiet acceptance.

"'Course you didn't," Niall said easily. He picked up one of the coasters on the coffee table and flipped it, faux-casual. He wouldn't meet Liam's eyes. "I made sure you didn't. You or anyone. Didn't want to be the fecking idiot going for a guy who was clearly gone for someone else. My best mate, at that."

"Yeah, but--" Liam began. He couldn't quite gather his thoughts enough to form a response. His throat was tightening, words choking him. "I just--"

Niall's lips pursed. "You don't have to do anything about it," he said. For a moment a flicker of annoyance, or maybe something deeper, crossed his face. Then it smoothed out back to that clear, open expression, the one Liam had assumed meant there were no depths behind it. Now he knew better, felt foolish to have thought otherwise. But it was more than that. Niall had given him--something. There had been something missing from his life for years now, something he had convinced himself he didn't need. Niall had given that back to him. Liam thought: he's given me everything. He felt an old, familiar panic rise up for a moment, and then recede when he realised he felt nothing but grateful for it.

"I don't..." he began, and was cut off by Niall saying,

"Well, thanks for coming over." It was clearly a dismissal. Liam's gut clenched.

"I don't, um. Can we talk about it, at least?" The expression that crossed Niall's face was a grimace trying to be a smile. Liam winced when he saw it. "Okay. Uh. I'll just--" He gestured at the door. "Hope you liked the soup." He got up and walked to the door, hoping Niall would say something to bring him back. He turned around to see Niall had taken up the entire sofa, feet resting at one end and face turned into the cushions at another. His hair was sticking up at a strange angle. Liam's chest ached queerly. "Sorry," he said, so quietly he almost couldn't hear himself. Niall shifted the other way. Liam closed the door behind himself and left.

 

*

 

After that they didn't talk for a long while. How could they have? It was difficult for Liam to even think about what Niall had said. When or how it might have started, how it could have gone on. There was a strange, cruel symmetry in their desires. Liam pining over Zayn, Niall pining over Liam. Both of them carrying that silently, as if it were a burden, not a gift. Love was supposed to be a gift, wasn't it? He voiced this thought to Harry without naming any names, but Harry's sharp eyes told him he might have given himself away anyway.

"Maybe it's not supposed to be anything but what you make it." That was a very Harry thing to say--cryptic, focusing on individual action and desire. It wasn't what Liam wanted.

"It's just--it's never felt like something good."

Harry's face creased up. "Never? Then how could it have been love?" Without answering, he loped off to the other end of the bar to answer a customer hailing him. Liam was left staring into his drink.

As much as he was letting himself sit and stew on this, he knew he would have to take action at some point. The only question was on what. Or how. He barely even knew what he wanted; what he could have was another question entirely. He finished his beer and went back into his office to lose himself in some accounting.

 

*

 

After three months of this, of Liam moping and no Niall at the open mics, Zayn popped up at the bar one Tuesday afternoon. Liam startled upon seeing him. "Everything okay?" Zayn didn't usually come by during the week without a reason, let alone during the day.

"I'm off work. Listen. When was the last time you talked to Niall?"

It was so direct that Liam's jaw clenched involuntarily. "I don't know," he said. "Uh--three months ago?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You need to get your act together."

"But there's not--I mean, I don't--"

Zayn made a face. "I don't really know or care what happened between you two. Every time I ask, Niall gets a face on him like I punched his mum, and you've been avoiding me for the past month--yes you have, don't even start with me. It didn't matter for a while, like, cos I thought you two were adult enough to sort it out. Apparently you're not, so I've been nominated into bullying both of you to get your fucking act together. What is it? What d'you need? Tell me and I'll do anything." Underneath his joking tone, his eyes were set and serious. Liam realised suddenly that Zayn was really worried about them--about the relationship between him and Niall and about him, too. At some point in the past that would have been all he would have needed to be set alight for the rest of the year. Now it barely registered.

"Can we talk?" he asked, voice heavy.

Zayn made a face, and then realised that was a rude way to respond and panickedly tried to smooth his expression back. "Yeah, of course. Love a good feelings chat, me." They went into Liam's office.

"Niall said he--liked me." He didn't want to say the word love. It felt too tenuous, maybe even false. Even thinking it made his pulse race.

Zayn's face softened. "Oh, that nutter," he muttered, more to himself than to Liam. "He's a fucking idiot," he said louder. "This was the last time you met?"

Liam nodded. "And I--was--I had feelings for someone else, for a long time. But I don't know if they've faded. And I don't know if it's because of him, or because they just did that by themselves cos it was time, or because of something else, or..." He spread his arms helplessly.

Zayn grimaced. "Both of you have been carrying some shit, eh? Well. I don't know. Do you have feelings for him? Do you--" he made air quotes around the word "--'like' him?"

"I like him. But I don't know if I-- _like_ \--him. But I think I do! I just don't know anymore." He was struck by how strange it felt to be discussing this with the former object of his affections, though Zayn didn't seem to notice.

Zayn made a face. "That's a copout, mate. Sorry!" He held up a hand when Liam tried to protest. "If you've really been in love with someone for as long as you said, then you at least know what it feels like. I mean--there's--you've already done it before."

"Yeah, but that was bad," Liam said. "That always felt bad. This feels good. Thinking about him--it just feels good." When he looked up, Zayn was looking at him with such incredulity he almost shrank back.

"D'you hear yourself? If it feels good, then go for it. That's it, innit? That's what it's supposed to be." He shook his head.

Liam thought it over for a moment. _If it feels good, then go for it._ Wasn't that what Niall had been trying to tell him this entire time? The answer had been in front of him all along. He was the idiot who'd missed it. He took a breath, then paused for a moment. This was it. He just had to go for it. "Can you get Niall in for the open mic on Thursday? Just tell him I won't be there if he says he won't come."

Zayn laughed out loud. "Yes, man. Yes." He slapped Liam on the shoulder. "Good for you. That's well done." Without waiting for a reply, he bounced out of the office, whistling.

 

*

 

He could see Niall's expression change as soon as he saw Liam at the front. He made a move to get up, even, before Zayn put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down firmly where he was sitting.

It was Harry who did the introduction today. "And last," he finished, in his slow, drawling voice, "we'll have a very special performance from Liam Payne. I know you all thought the last one was as special as it could get, but it is going to get much more special in here. I hope you're all excited." Liam could see Niall hiding a smile. He tried not to let his heart leap hopefully, but--perhaps this was symbolic--it did what it wanted.

When everyone else had finished, he got up and sat on the stool in front of the mic. "This one is for, uh, someone I've already met. But someone who I hope likes me even a bit as much as he likes Michael Buble." He could see a smile bloom on Niall's face. "It's _Just Haven't Met You Yet_." He didn't dare look at Niall when he performed, but the cheers at the end told him he'd probably done well.

Again, Niall waited till he was finished clearing everything up before he tapped him on the shoulder. They stood facing each other.

"I'm an idiot," Niall said, and Liam winced.

"I know, but--" He stopped for a moment and actually heard what Niall had said. "Wait. _You're_ \--? I'm the one who--"

Niall cut him off. "It's okay. Listen. I should have--called or said something. I really shouldn't have made you leave. The soup was good, though." Liam laughed. It felt so random for him to say that. "Stop laughing, I'm trying to be sincere! Listen. I like you, obviously." He made an uncertain gesture and looked off to the side. "Do you--?"

"Obviously," Liam said.

NIall laughed. "Okay. Just wanted to make sure." He held out his arms, and Liam stepped into them, savouring for a moment how good it felt. Then he pulled back.

"Can I kiss you?" he said, and Niall laughed again, hiding his face in Liam's shoulder.

"Jesus. Only you would ask like that. Yes, you lunatic." They kissed once, then again, slowly. Niall's hair was thick and soft, a little dry from the bleach, Liam assumed. He was warm and solid in Liam's arms. Behind them someone--probably Louis--hooted loudly. Harry was catcalling them. Someone else was clapping; it was probably Zayn. Liam grinned. He took hold of Niall's hand, which was warm and dry. They turned around to join the rest of their friends, who awaited them with open arms and enough love to fill the room. He squeezed Niall's hand, and felt Niall squeeze back. 

This had turned out all right. He was happy with it. And that was all that mattered, really.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](http://hotgaydumbledore.tumblr.com/) // [reblog](http://hotgaydumbledore.tumblr.com/post/142303821377/the-only-way-is-up-again-10k-rating-t-pairing) this fic


End file.
